Clocks
by CrazyBeaver
Summary: Benji hated clocks. A simple assignment to the tech team has led to unpredictable consequences. Benji & Brandt one-shot.


A/N: Okay. I really don't know what came over me here so please don't kill me! I hope I didn't go over the top here…  
><span>The parts written in<span> _italics _are flashbacks.

Disclaimer: I don't own Mission: Impossible.

**Clocks**

Benji really hated clocks. They were such a blatant evidence of the inevitability of the time passing… and that awful, endless ticking. Like they had their own language and were mocking everybody. And come to think of it, even if you stopped a clock, time would still go on. They were just such small parts of that big merciless machine, little bastards. Completely irrelevant parts. And yet they found it in them to act smug. They actually found it in them to think they were in any way better than the rest of the world.

The clock he was now looking at wasn't of the ticking kind. It was one of those big electronic ones, those silent ones which only wait for an opportunity to sneak up on you. It didn't change much though, as Benji still heard the ticking anyway. And even if for a short while he lost the clock from his sight (which happened very rarely), that persistent sound would just never leave.

"_So you still refuse to cooperate?" Benji hadn't a slightest idea who the man now talking to him was but one thing for sure: he didn't mean any good. And it meant that he couldn't get the information on the project he was now not very kindly asking about._

"_I don't know what you are talking about," the Englishman retorted, blood running down from his temple. For some reason this injury concerned him more than the others. He didn't want to think about them. Being tied to a chair, forced to look at his captor, kind of helped him sort out his priorities._

_He was hoping that the IMF would send someone to the rescue, since what he had been working on was quite important after all. He was just afraid to crack before they came._

"_Well, perhaps this will make you more talkative," Benji saw a syringe being filled and began to struggle rather pathetically. He could do nothing as it was injected into his arm._

_The ex-technician's head was spinning. It could be because of the beatings but he was almost entirely sure it was due to the drug in his system. He knew how these things worked. Soon he would lose control over his mind and tell everything to whomever asked him about it. And the price of that information was way too high. He had no right to pass it to anyone. He had no right to say a word. He knew that as soon as he just opened his mouth, everything he knew would come out. "Keep your mouth shut, Benji. No matter what"._

_In his last desperate attempt to not give in he tried to focus on something else. Something he could stuff his mind with while he was waiting._

_His blurry gaze fell on the clock hanging on the wall. Why was it even here? Such a nice old-fashioned clock which looked so homey… Its ticking was beyond everything that was happening in the room. It was like straight out of an old family film. So calm and comforting… Benji had to concentrate on it. Not to think about what they were asking him, not to even listen to them. Just the clock's ticking._

_Time went on, and the help still wasn't coming. Eventually the clock stopped being so reassuring. It was like it saw what was happening, saw his pain and his struggle and just didn't care. It was ticking with contempt. It began to irritate Benji but he had no choice. Soon all he could hear was just this bloody clock._

Sometimes the ticking was accompanied by other sounds. Voices. Some of them sounded vaguely familiar but Benji just couldn't hear what they were saying. The ticking was too loud. All other noises dissolved in it.

Maybe he was safe now. Benji didn't know what time or even what day it was. Such an irony, to lose the track of time when there is a clock in your head. He tried to count the tics several times but got lost after a while.

He wanted to break this wall of sound. Wanted this endless noise to stop, wanted to scream. But something stopped him. He couldn't find his voice. Besides, he had to keep his mouth shut. He had forgotten why.

And so he sat looking at an electronic clock on the wall across the corridor. He hated it but couldn't look away, completely mesmerized by it. He looked at it as at the concept of a clock, not actually seeing the time it was showing. Not knowing how long it had been.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Brandt didn't know why he was still here. No matter how hard reality was pressing on him he still had this crazy hope that somehow it was going to get back to normal. Crazy. Maybe he was crazy. Or are you really crazy if you don't want to believe that your best friend _is_? So he just used national security as an excuse to stay as long as he needed. At least he could pull some strings…

The doctors said that some amount of pain could bring him back from that state. But they couldn't do it since he had evident traces of a torture on him. They didn't know how much he had had and how much more he could take. They said it could pass though. Said the tech could still eventually come to his senses. Because maybe it was the lingering effects of the drug they couldn't detect. The analyst chose to hold on to that possibility as if it had been a certainty.

Benji's stare was still just as disoriented and absent as when Brandt had found him, beaten up in an old small house in the middle of nowhere. Back then William had assumed it had been due to the head injury. Or the drug. He had believed the effects to subside soon. Now he really wanted to believe that.

"_Come on, Benji!" Brandt yelled as they sat at the back of the speeding van with a few other agents. He hoped it would somehow help Benji to snap out of his shock or whatever that was. "Look at me! Look at me when I'm talking to you!"_

_But not a single one of the tech's muscles flinched. He still looked like he wasn't even there._

It had been almost two days as Brandt was still sitting by his friend's side, eventually talking to him about some nonsense. He knew Benji didn't hear him. He didn't care. Maybe it was he who was going insane.

"Jane and Ethan will return soon," he stated, as if reminding his friend about an important event he didn't want to miss. His own exhaustion was pulsing through his head, making his vision blurry as his eyes were watering up. Or maybe it wasn't the fatigue that caused it. "We've got to meet them in our bar, remember?"

"_So what? We go our separate ways now?" Brandt asked as the four agents were having beers in their favorite bar._

"_Yeah," Ethan mumbled as Jane nodded quietly. It was a bit odd how attached to each other they all had become. Now they were all given their separate missions, and it felt a little sad to split up._

_Benji shrugged grumpily. While the three of his friends had gotten actual missions, he was required by the tech team. Apparently, it was something extremely complicated. Even though he was now a field agent and not a technician, it had been made clear to him that they needed his help. And, despite missing the fun of field work, deep down inside he was flattered to be thought of that highly._

_Brandt knew it and laughed._

"_Oh, come on," he lightly nudged the Brit at the shoulder. "I say we all meet here when we're back. And we'll tell each other what we can about our adventures," he noticed Benji's glare and added: "or unadventurous time at the lab… Ow!" the carton beer coaster hit him right in the forehead. Taken by surprise, he just stared as his friends burst out laughing, only to join them a few seconds later._

Brandt sighed. He was so tired… And he had run out of things to say. His head felt absolutely light and empty. He looked aside at Benji who didn't show any signs of involvement. Brandt swallowed, remembering the moment when he had heard about what had happened to Benji's tech team. That feeling when your blood turns into ice. William hated this feeling, and yet it was the one he had had upon hearing the sentence "The team of our best technicians has been killed". And the relief upon realizing that agent Dunn hadn't been among the murdered… only to find out he had gone missing. He hadn't doubted for a second before insisting on joining the rescue mission. And only now his exhaustion was catching up on him.

He rubbed his eyes, partially to wake up and partially to wipe the tears.

"Oh, stop it, Benji! You can't just sit here like this forever!" it was almost a yell now, desperate and panicked. He drew a breath, trying to calm down knowing that freaking out like this would just get him thrown out. Or maybe it would get him checked in…

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The ticking was unbearable. Somebody's voice was trying to break through it. To Benji it felt like he had been underwater and someone had been calling for him from above the surface. Did he even want to follow that call? Maybe it was his captor… the ticking seemed to slowly quiet down. Or was he just getting used to it? The more he listened to the voice, the more it sounded like…

"Brandt?" he barely heard his own voice, not only because it was weak and shaking but also because of the still loud ticking in his head.

William's heart was pounding in his ears and for a few seconds he forgot how to breathe.

"Yes," he finally exhaled. "I-I'm here. Why-why are you staring at that clock?"

"Clock," Benji repeated. Brandt felt a lump in his throat as one more glimpse of hope was dying. However, the tech blinked forcefully and with a visible effort turned his head in the analyst's direction. He still wasn't making eye contact, as his gaze was showing way too many thoughts crossing his mind at the same time.

"There was a clock," he swallowed as tears started to roll down his face. "And it wouldn't stop ticking… and I couldn't… tell… I didn't… anything…" he was now shaking with sobs, as Brandt was just staring at him, not knowing whether to feel relieved or worried.

"And my team… were all dead…" the tech whimpered as the analyst wrapped his arms around him, allowing the Englishman to lean on his chest. A bit awkward but now it was the last thing he was concerned about.

Slowly, the ticking was going away. Soon it was blissfully quiet, apart from Brandt's heartbeat. Kind of awkward. Maybe he would make a joke about it… someday. Later.

Brandt noticed his friend's sobs turn into deep and calm breathing as he fell asleep. The analyst really hoped it was a good sign…

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"You okay?" a month had passed since that terrible affair. Benji was getting tired of this question. And he didn't know how to answer it. He was seeing a therapist to get over his problems with clocks. And he had added quite a few lines to his recurring nightmare list. On the other hand, it could be worse. So he just put his most convincing smile on and nodded. "I'm fine". He took a sip from his glass. "You?"

"Could be worse," Brandt smiled. Now every time they saw each other they felt the need to ask this question. Every time Brandt heard this reply he felt extremely relieved. He was eager to ignore the fact that Benji's smile didn't look very natural and had very little in common with his trademark goofy grin. He knew it just needed time.

"Hey, look who's back!" he smiled and waved at the two people who had just entered the bar. We'll have a lot to talk about, he thought, watching Jane and Ethan making their way towards them…


End file.
